All credit for Spooks goes to Kudos :)
Ahh. The fear of uploading H/R fanfic. I'm VERY scared. I've been writing fanfic in secret and password protecting it out of paranoia on my laptop even though no one else in my family is slightly interested. So actually PUBLISHING it :O please be nice :) or at least constructive!
SPOILERS FOR 8.03
THEN.
She looked up from her desk as subtly as possible but he was looking at her again and their eyes met. Again. He smiled, a small knowing smile, but she looked hurriedly away and got back to sorting through some files that had been sent up. When she knew he wasn't looking anymore, she let out a small joyful laugh.
"Harry," Juliet looked at him as he turned away from her again, "Harry – are you listening to a word I'm saying? We've got to keep the Americans happy now, more than ever."
Adam failed to hide his smirk as he looked at Harry's vacant face, staring out of his office window. He had a pretty good idea what, or who, he was so distracted by.
"Carter," snapped Juliet suddenly, "I don't find anything even slightly funny about the situation."
"Ruth," a voice said over her shoulder, "How are things looking?"
Ruth jumped and stared back to her screen.
"Well, I've discovered a few leads…I…I think I need a bit more time to…you know…" she blushed.
"I know," smiled Jo gently.
"Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Laughing at me. You're all doing it. I can't stand it. Being laughed at."
"We're not laughing, Ruth, we're happy."
"There's nothing…I…" She stuttered nervously and collected up her sheaves of paper as fast as possible, some fluttering down off her desk as she rushed in her usual clumsiness.
"Just take a look at those intel reports I gave you earlier," Ruth said hurriedly as she looked at Jo. She stopped, looked down at the papers in her hands, and looked up again, a pleading expression on her face, "Please?"
NOW.
Harry sat, shell-shocked at his desk, for a few minutes. Running his fingers along the edges of the table, he tried to gather his thoughts. So many lives lost, so many families to break the news to. There were times when he wondered if the British public really had any appreciation at all for the sacrifices made for their own safety. He wanted a stiff drink and an hour or so just to think. Because tomorrow would move on like just another day, and in this job, there was no time to mourn. He stood up and walked over to the cabinet, and as he passed the office door, heard the faint sound of sobbing from outside. Ruth. He paused for a moment, unsure what to do. Unsure what she would want him to do. He was almost certain she wouldn't be happy at him seeing her upset…but at the same time, would she think him cold and heartless if he didn't at least try and comfort her… In the end, the thought of her in his arms was enough to push him to the door. He slid it open and stood quietly beside her. There weren't really any words. She turned and looked at him, those brilliant blue eyes shining with tears, her hair brushed across her face. He paused for a moment, holding his hand by her face, and then slowly moved her waves away from her eyes. She looked up at him, trying to read what he meant by this. They had got so used to not properly looking at each other, let alone letting their hands brush. She didn't think it had even had chance to sink in yet that she was back and he was right here in front of her, touching distance. But now, overwhelmed by sadness, she swallowed and tried to speak,
"Harry… why? Why Jo, Harry?"
He didn't know. Why any of them? Why Ruth accused of murder, why Lucas tortured during eight years in some Russian prison, why Danny and Adam and Zaf and all the other friends and colleagues he'd never said goodbye to, never thanked for their service, unending loyalty. He felt his eyes prickle. He looked down at her again, and gently, so she could pull away, put an arm around her, and held her closer. Her eyes showed her surprise, but she did not move away. And they stood like that for a long time, two shadows against the wall of the Grid, not speaking, hardly touching, just breathing.